


six dollars and the big cat blues

by goreds



Category: Frontier (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, M/M, Slow Burn, smut? maybe eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreds/pseuds/goreds
Summary: Cobbs Pond is living a peaceful life in the middle of the wilderness, as a park ranger.Then two Scottish campers find an American up in a tree, and Cobbs's peaceful life is no more.
Relationships: Samuel Grant/Cobbs Pond
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. rock a bye baby, on the tree top

**Author's Note:**

> I blame @MasterOfAllImagination for this. (Also, she gave me the title.)

The lonely park ranger _likes_ being lonely. Cobbs Pond just wants to live in his ranger’s cabin in the middle of La Mauricie National Park, undisturbed, for the most part. Of course, there’s the odd camper, the errant tourist or the lost hiker, but for the most part, he lets the other rangers handle people. He’s the steward of the flora and fauna of the park.

The fauna. The cougar population is growing out of control and threatening the visitors to the park (although Cobbs thinks people are just as much of a threat to the cougars), and it’s Cobbs’s job to maintain an uneasy balance. So, he plasters signs, closes off trails when necessary and quietly advises nervous parents that no, the cougars will most likely _not_ eat their young in the night.

While it’s all tedious, it is the job he signed up for after he came back from the war. Cities like Montreal are just not his place anymore...he needs peace and quiet, and the park gives him more of that than anywhere else could, he supposes.

La Mauricie is peaceful until the day that... _he_ is found, clinging to the upper part of a tree, with nothing but six dollars, his clothes and one of his shoes. Malcolm and Douglas Brown, two experienced Scottish campers who visit the park every year find the man with dark red hair and flinty blue eyes seemingly not frightened, but clinging to the top branches of a tall tree nevertheless.

“Aye, he’s got himself up there...must be a helluva climber!” Douglas exclaims when Pond walks up to the two men.

“Foolish American,” growls Malcolm.

“He’s American? How do you know?” Cobbs asks.

“Well, he’s not Canadian from the sound of his voice,” Douglas says.

“A good assumption,” the man yells down.

“Won’t you come down?” Cobbs asks steadily up to the man.

“What? For tea?” The man snorts. Cobbs already didn’t like him, but now he definitely doesn’t.

“You can’t stay up there forever.” Cobbs knows he’s starting to sound annoyed, which is unusual for him. He usually speaks in a dull monotone, leftover from the war days.

“I’m not sure how to get down. Some of the lower branches broke when I got up here.”

“He could just jump,” Malcolm huffs.

“Oh, will you break my fall, whoever the hell you are?” The man is as annoyed as Cobbs is, clearly.

Malcolm and Douglas are shorter men than Cobbs, who reckons he’s nearly the same height as the man in the tree.

“How about this,” Cobbs says, “You climb down to the lowest remaining branch, and I’ll get ahold of you, and we’ll get you down.”

“A ranger doesn’t have a ladder?”

“A ranger does, but I walked here and the ladder’s back at my station a good three miles away.”

“Why didn’t you just...drive a golf cart or something?”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

The man gives a dark laugh. “Are you actually a ranger?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, why did you, when you heard there was someone stuck in a tree, decide not to bring any gear?”

Cobbs realizes he doesn’t really have an answer to that question. “I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

“I guess we’ll go with your ‘plan,’ then.” The man sounds a little scared now.

Cobbs positions himself at the base of the tree, arms outstretched. The man gently makes his way down to the lowest branch he can find. He crouches on the branch.

“You promise me you won’t drop me, or something?”

“I promise I’ll try not to,” Cobbs says. This guy isn’t used to danger, is he?

The man sits down on the branch, legs dangling over Cobbs’s head. One of his pant legs is torn, and he’s missing a shoe...and his other shoe is a nice loafer, not a hiking boot. _No, seriously, how did this guy get out here_? Cobbs asks himself. “I’m gonna jump off now,” the man says, nervously.

Cobbs waits. And waits. And waits. “Are you actually?”

The man scoffs. “Yes,” he says. “Just...be gentle, okay?” The man scoots himself off of the branch, falling into Cobbs’s arms. Cobbs _almost_ drops him and considers just doing it out of spite, but he holds on despite of himself. The man wraps an arm around Cobbs’s neck and holds on for dear life.

“Uh...you’re on the ground, now,” is all Cobbs says.

“Oh, right.” Cobbs sets the man down. The two exchange a glance, with Cobbs just staring dispassionately with his deep blue eyes. But the other man’s equally blue eyes nearly twinkle at him. “Thank you,” the man says, thrusting his right hand forward. “Samuel Grant.”

Cobbs takes the man’s hand hesitantly (presumptuous American, what’s new?) and shakes it carefully. “Cobbs Pond.” The two remain in that position for what seems like an awkward eternity to Cobbs.

One of the Scots clears their throat. “Uh...I’m Douglas Brown. Y’know, the guy who _called_ the ranger?”

The two break apart.

“Ah, yes,” Samuel says, almost grandly. “Thank you, Mr. Brown. And this is--” he extends his hand to Malcolm, who just grunts.

“This is Malcolm. He doesn’t really like people.” A man after Cobbs’s own heart.

“Well, I’ll be going on my way, now.” Samuel begins to walk forward, but with a definite limp, favoring his left leg. The one with the torn pant leg.

“You sure about that, laddie?” Douglas says, concern thick in his voice.

“Just a little scratch,” Samuel says, although his face is beginning to contort in pain.

“Let me take a look,” Cobbs says. Samuel rolls his eyes, but limps over to a nearby rock and sits down, sticking his leg out for Cobbs. Cobbs pulls away the torn remainder of the pant leg and hisses at what he sees. Claw marks run down the man’s pale leg. He realizes the black pant leg is covered in dried blood. “How are you still alive?” he wonders aloud.

“It’s just a scratch, like I said.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Yeah, but that was last night. I feel much better today.” From his labored breathing and Cobbs realizes, clinging to his savior earlier for support, that’s not at all true.

“I really should’ve driven over here.”

“I could limp back, with some support.”

“It’s three miles away, Mr. Grant. I should just call emergency services.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Why the hell not?” Malcolm growls yet again.

“Because I’d prefer not to get the authorities involved. Just a little cougar attack, just a scared American making a fool of himself out here. That’s all this is.”

Cobbs sympathizes with not wanting to get the outside world involved, but he’s not sure what else to do. He calls his ranger partner, Clenna Dolan. A fiery young woman, she picks up with a gruff “What?!” Cobbs realizes too late that Clenna was up all night working. Cobbs explains the situation, and Clenna sighs that she’ll drive out and pick Samuel and Cobbs up.

Clenna pulls up in the pick-up, and Cobbs helps Samuel into the back. Clenna eyes the man warily. “An American, eh?” she says in her Irish lilt.

“Yes, it would appear so,” Samuel says before Cobbs can say anything in response. “I know I’m an oddity right now, but my country is literally right below yours, so I can’t be the first one the two of you have ever met.”

“No, but you’re the surliest,” Clenna spits back. Clenna motions to Cobbs to come over to her, out of earshot of Samuel. “Y’know how I keep the news on while I’m trying to sleep?” Cobbs just nods. “Your man there looks an awful lot like a police sketch of a murderer who escaped from Montreal a few nights ago.”

“Him?” Cobbs is surprised. This Samuel Grant doesn’t seem like he could hurt a housefly, let alone murder someone.

“I mean, he’s a handsome so-and-so, and it could just be a coincidence, but keep an eye on him if he’s stickin’ around, as you said.” Clenna eyes Samuel suspiciously. Samuel seems too focused on his breathing.

“I can do that,” Cobbs says. “But first, we patch him up. And get me a look at that police sketch, when you get the chance?”

Clenna nods. Cobbs climbs into the back of the truck and sits next to Samuel, who moans a little every time they go over a rock. “Is she taking the bumpiest route?”

“Quite possibly. Don’t tick off Ranger Dolan. You’ll know the rules around here soon enough.”

Samuel turns his head to Cobbs before smiling softly. “Thank you, Ranger Pond.”


	2. Two Sides of the Same Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths come out.

A day later, Samuel is attempting to limp around Cobbs’s cabin when he falls flat on his face. Cobbs arrives just in time to see it, but not in time to help.

"Your leg still isn't healed, you shouldn't be walking on it," Cobbs chides softly.

"I've gotta get out of here at some point." Samuel grunts, trying to stand again, but moaning as he puts weight on his bad leg. Cobbs catches him before he falls this time.

"Why? What's the big rush?"

"I don't like nature, let's put it at that. I belong back home, in Montreal."

"Are you sure you can go back there?"

"Huh?" Samuel looks genuinely baffled...or is at least playing at it, Cobbs thinks.

"Ranger Dolan seems to think you resemble a police sketch--"

"I can explain--"

"Can you? Just why were you in the park in the middle of the night?"

"It was...an ex-business partner of mine, alright? I didn't lay a hand on her, I've been framed, honestly." Samuel's eyes are now desperate. "You've got to believe me."

"No, I don't. As far as I'm concerned, you're an intruder in the park. I'm only letting you stay here until your leg heals up." Cobbs sounds cold, rigid.

"And after that? Are you going to turn me in?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, that's very reassuring." Samuel limps over to a chair, collapsing onto it. "You're not very decisive, are you, Ranger Pond?"

"It's not a question of decisiveness. I'm trying to decide if I trust you. A man who ran from a cougar doesn't strike me as the murdering type, but..."

"But the evidence is stacked against me."

"Yes."

Samuel slumps a little more in the chair. "Do you think Ranger Dolan will turn me in?"

Cobbs smiles. "I can hold her off, for now. I have ways with her."

Samuel nods and stares a little vacantly out the window, towards the view of the lake. "It's beautiful, you know."

"I thought you didn't like nature."

Samuel looks at Cobbs with a surprising tenderness in his eyes. "No, but I can appreciate it. Thank you for letting me stay. For not throwing me out on my ass, or worse yet, in prison."

"You need to heal. So, you'll heal, and then we'll decide what to do with you." Cobbs is again surprised by Samuel's gratitude. The man was so grumpy when he was getting rescued from the tree; he's done a 180, as far as Cobbs is concerned.

But there's something more to the man's gratitude, and Cobbs can sense it, and he's not sure he likes it. The tenderness in Samuel's eyes, for example; the soft brushes of his hand against Cobbs's arm or the way that he clings to Cobbs every time Cobbs has to pick him up off the ground. Cobbs hasn't had...anyone in a long time, and he's not going to start up again now. But Samuel is definitely giving off a vibe.

Not that Samuel isn't good looking or interesting to be around. Cobbs just isn't sure he wants to sleep with a potential murderer. But that's something he has to figure out. Just looking at Samuel, he doesn't seem like he has the strength to club a woman to death. But he definitely seems like he could lie about whatever happened between him and that Carruthers woman.

Cobbs relies on Clenna for news updates on the case. Clenna is convinced Samuel's a murderer at this point, and it takes regular reassurances from Cobbs to stop her from just turning in the injured man and letting the justice system take care of him. Clenna's not exactly a swooning damsel; she's a hardened woman, with plenty of life experience to back that up. But she's never indicated what exactly caused her to seem old beyond her years, and Cobbs is too respectful to ask.

A few days later, Samuel tries to walk around some more, with Cobbs's help, but his leg is still weak, and he winces every time he tries to put any real weight on it. Cobbs feels sorry for him. Samuel catches the pity in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. Like I'm some...dying animal you have to take care of."

"I don't think that."

"Well, maybe I'm starting to think that about myself. Maybe we could find a large stick, or something, to help me get around."

"I have a walking stick in the other room. Let me grab it," Cobbs says. The walking stick is sturdy, with a carving of a cougar's head on top.

Samuel grimaces when he notices the cougar head. "Really? How kind of you, I guess."

"Just let it serve as a reminder to treat these animals respectfully."

"I didn't treat it disrespectfully, I just tried to run from it, because I was _terrified_ , and--"

"It thought you were playing. There's a reason we don't typically play with wild animals."

"Because they tear your leg up?"

"Exactly. Try the stick out."

Samuel walks around the room with the stick, still unsteadily, but better than he had been doing. He looks triumphant. "This is perfect. Maybe now I can get out of your hair. You'd like that, I guess?"

"If you're going to be a fugitive, you'll need a lot more than a walking stick to run."

"Do you believe Ranger Dolan and the police or me? What kind of a man do you think I am?"

"A scared one. Easily frightened, and easily convinced to run away."

Samuel begins to pace, the walking stick clicking on the floor. "You're not wrong. What Elizabeth did..."

"What _did_ she do?"

Samuel stops pacing. He looks to the sky, as if for guidance, before looking at Cobbs. "She threatened to out me. To everyone I've ever worked with or known."

"It's the 21st century...certainly not worth murdering someone over."

"I didn't! I did not murder her. At least not intentionally. And you don't understand. I'm a very private man. We can't all happily live out here in the middle of nowhere, out and proud to nothing but the animals." Samuel's eyes are flashing now.

"What do you mean by that?" Cobbs doesn't think he's that obvious about it.

"C'mon, don't play coy. You've been looking at me the same way I've been looking at you. Mutual recognition. We play well together because we're the same thing."

"I've never clobbered anyone over the head because they--"

"But you might. There's danger in your eyes, there's a reason you live out here all alone, isn't there?"

Cobbs doesn't know what to say to that. He's never been read like a book like Samuel just did with him. "It's late. You should get some rest." Cobbs clomps out of the cabin and catches his breath in the cool air, trying to calm himself. _That was very strange, what just happened._

Who _is_ this guy?


	3. a possible escape plan emerges

“I’m turning him in,” Clenna says, right after she marches into Cobbs’s cabin.

“What? Why?”

“It’s been two weeks, Cobbs. The evidence is stacked up against him. You told me yourself he admitted to something fishy with that Carruthers woman.”

“His leg isn’t healed yet.”

“Well, it can heal in a hospital, surrounded by armed guards.”

“Now, Clen--”

“Don’t ‘now, Clen’ me. This guy is suspicious, and he’s taking advantage of your good hospitality. If you excuse me, I have a phone call to make.” And with that, Clenna swoops out of the cabin.

“Fuck.” It’s a simple statement, coming from the direction of the bathroom doorway. Samuel, leaning on his walking stick, in a borrowed bathrobe, hair wet from a shower.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough. How long have you been fending her off?”

“For the whole time you’ve been here. I guess she’s fed up, is all.” Cobbs feels defeated, and he knows his face shows it. He wanted to protect Samuel at this point, even if he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because the man is constantly limping around the cabin, and Cobbs is sure the limp isn’t going to get better without serious attention. But that would require taking him into town or even to Montreal. Samuel would definitely get caught then.

“Why _haven’t_ you turned me in, Cobbs?”

Cobbs looks up in surprise. Samuel hasn’t called him anything but “Ranger Pond” the entire time he’s been at the park.

“What’s wrong?”

“You called me by my name. I just...wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

Samuel smiles and comes over to Cobbs. Cobbs can smell his own shampoo on the other man. It’s a strange sensation, smelling yourself on another person. “I figured I might as well get familiar with my host if this is to be the last I see of him.”

Cobbs feels a tightening sensation in his stomach, and in that moment, he knows he can’t let go of Samuel and certainly not send him to the police. He looks Samuel in the eyes, placing his hand on top of Samuel’s hand, the one on top of the cougar’s head on his walking stick. “I just got this crazy idea.”

“And that would be?”

“We run.”

“I thought you said I couldn’t run, not with my bum leg.”

“Not without help. I know the park. I can help you get around.”

“Why are you so willing to help me?” Samuel gives a crooked smile.

“You know why.”

Samuel sets his walking stick to the side, leaning against Cobbs for support. He looks up at Cobbs with what Cobbs can only describe as a sultry look and kisses Cobbs on the jaw.

“You do realize Ranger Dolan could come racing in here at any moment--”

Samuel silences him with a kiss on the mouth. Cobbs kisses him back, of course, because what else is he going to do? Samuel clings onto him for dear life, like he did when he jumped out of that tree. Cobbs breaks off the kiss.

“I suppose I could...lock the door.”

“Yes, I suppose you could.”

Cobbs feels a deadening in his stomach and a throbbing in his crotch, and he knows none of this is going to end well, but it might end in a bang. Maybe he could use some excitement.


End file.
